


Uchiha Captive

by Kalira



Category: Naruto
Genre: (Only Not), Accidental kidnapping, Chakra Theory, Geekery, Happy Ending, Hashirama is Overexcitable, Hashirama is a good brother, Izuna is Traumatised, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2019, Madara in Glasses, Madara is Smart, Madara's Hair, Overall Happy, Pre-Konoha Village, Prisoner of War, Tobirama is Intrigued, brief angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: . . .or captivated by Uchiha?Hashirama is overcome with guilt and worry when his brother never returns from delivering a message to the Uchiha after their cease fire has been signed, but what does he find when he rushes to the ‘rescue’?





	Uchiha Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MadaTobi Week](https://madatobiweek.tumblr.com/post/182718063236), day 3: Prisoner of War

Hashirama darted through the trees - they reached for him comfortingly whenever he so much as slowed, and he stroked branches from time to time as he passed - barely able to keep on the right path for the tears blurring his eyes. His _baby brother_. . .

Hashirama had been so delighted, so _relieved_ , when the Uchiha - when _Madara_ , his old, dear friend - had finally consented to a cease fire. . . It had been Tobirama’s idea and his pushing to get it offered; Hashirama wanted _peace_ , wanted the village he had dreamed of, but Tobirama had insisted that slow steps from the ground up would be safer and more stable for his one-day village.

And now-

Tobirama was two weeks past when he should have returned home from delivering his message. To excuse the ‘delay’ Hashirama had a letter from his brother . . . if it could be called that. A few lines, sparse and lacking detail, written with uncharacteristic gracelessness and sloppy strokes, and the very _idea_ it put forward. . .

Hashirama had longed for peace with his oldest friend since they were children, had been _so sure_ of it, but Tobirama. . .

Let Tobirama, who had been carrying _his message_ , not have paid the price for Hashirama’s optimism and hopes that they could all grow beyond the generations-long war. All he wanted now was to have his brother back, his _last_ brother, and Tobirama so rarely needed protecting sometimes Hashirama forgot to look out for him, but-

“Please be all right, Tobi. . .” Hashirama whispered, prayed, as he ran for the Uchiha compound, already deep into their territory.

If he wasn’t. . . If the Uchiha had hurt Tobirama. . . If they had _killed_ -

Hashirama swallowed, the walls of the Uchiha compound coming into sight. He couldn’t think that. Surely Madara, _Madara_ , his oldest friend even if they had been parted, the boy who had shared his dream, who had longed for nothing so much as the ability to keep his brothers safe. . . Surely he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ have hurt Hashirama’s baby brother.

Hashirama swallowed and slowed a little as he approached the gates. He _wanted_ to go over them, straight _through_ them, but-

But if Tobirama _were_ in danger, he had to- He had to handle this right. Carefully.

Hashirama swallowed tightly. This was _Tobirama’s_ strength, caution and evaluation and plans and- and if Tobirama were here he would _know_ if the captive was safe or hurt or-

Hashirama caught his breath and swallowed hard. “Uchiha!” he bellowed, and was startled when the gate swung open.

“Yeah, yeah. Hello.” Izuna said, waving. “Are you coming in?”

Hashirama twitched, sniffling. “Wha- What?”

Izuna sighed. “Honestly.”

“You- My _brother_!” Hashirama lunged, and Izuna stepped aside . . . gesturing him . . . right through the doors into the Uchiha compound. Not that Hashirama couldn’t have easily gotten himself inside, but. . . “I sent him _peacefully_ , how could you- how could you just-”

“I think he’s even _worse_ when he’s being friendly. Icicle.” Izuna huffed, _pouting_. Hashirama was off-balance. “I haven’t been able to go into our library safely for _weeks_ now, and my Aniki is very distracted and people keep bringing _me_ problems! Just because I’m his heir!” He glanced at Hashirama, pout deepening. “Is that fair?”

“ _What?_ ” Hashirama said faintly. “I’m here because you _took my brother prisoner_!”

Izuna blinked at him. “We didn’t _capture_ him!” he protested, huffing. “He was _here_ with that message for Aniki, whatever,” he waved a hand, “and then he was still here at dinner, so Aniki invited him to stay for the night before running home and then- Oh, come see for yourself.” He huffed again and stomped off, very un-shinobi-like.

Hashirama followed Izuna deeper into the compound, straight for the largest home in sight, all its outer shoji thrown open to allow the air through. A tiny flutter of hope was sparking in the depths of Hashirama’s confusion and panicked worry.

“ _Prisoner_. Fuck.” Izuna grumbled. “Maybe if you come _take him home_ I’ll be able to _use the fucking library again_. Assuming Aniki doesn’t just moon around. . .” he trailed off into mutters Hashirama could no longer make out, leading him up into the house.

He removed his shoes, then eyed Hashirama pointedly until he scrambled to follow suit, very confused. He swallowed tightly. This was a very strange setup if it was to trap him, and-

Tobirama might be all right.

Tobirama might be all right. Hashirama repeated it to himself, dizzy and fretful. If Tobirama was all right he was going to- he was going to hug his brother until his ribs creaked and then he was going to _shout at him until his ears rang_ for _worrying Hashirama so much_.

* * *

Tobirama frowned slightly as he took off his sandals and followed Hikaku into what appeared to be the Uchiha Head Family home. He could sense Madara within, in any case, his molten chakra oddly calm and smooth. It was . . . a curious and enticing sensation.

“Madara-sama is within,” Hikaku said with a bow, gesturing to a pair of double doors, “I invite you to make yourself known. I leave you to his care.”

Tobirama bowed. “Thank you, Hikaku-san.” He smiled faintly, and Hikaku returned it, opening the doors for him.

Tobirama nodded and stepped through, and his breath caught. A library. He was in the Uchiha library - or- or the Uchiha Head Family library, at least. His fingers twitched, his eyes skimming quickly over the shelves and tables, lower lip caught in his teeth.

His message. He had a message for Uchiha Madara and he was _not_ simply . . . exploring. Was not free to do so.

Tobirama sighed softly, then moved forwards, and the doors closed at his back. Hikaku’s chakra - a controlled, concentrated flame, though currently banked to quiet flickers - moved away. A few steps brought him to where he could _see_ Madara, not just sense his chakra, but-

For a moment, Tobirama might not have known him, without the unmistakable feel of his chakra, so distinctive and so unlike anyone else’s, even when unprecedentedly calmed and steady to Tobirama’s senses.

He sat at a table scattered with scrolls, books, and open papers, not wearing the thick Uchiha mantle Tobirama was used to but a deep purple yukata that was slightly disarranged around his collarbones and upper chest, and his wild mane was tied back in a high tail, save for the long fringe that framed his face, and-

And he was wearing _glasses_ , framing his dark eyes with a glint of silver and glass.

“Ah- Uchiha Madara-sama.” Tobirama greeted, trying to shake off his surprise. He should have anticipated Madara would _look different_ when he was in his own home, working or relaxing, than when he was on the battlefield or even approaching for the single brief and rather fraught ceasefire discussion they had yet had. It was foolish to be so surprised. “Forgive my intrusion without advance notice. . .”

Madara looked up at him. “Senju Tobirama,” his voice hitched, “san. No, certainly, and welcome.” He bowed his head slightly in a polite gesture. “What brings you to us?” he asked, eyes bright and alert but not suspicious behind the lenses.

“My brother sends a letter.” Tobirama said, producing it from his sleeve. “In advance of the meeting next month.” There might also be some personal nonsense included; Hashirama had refused to allow Tobirama to help with drafting the letter, and as Hashirama had _somehow_ managed not to infuriate Madara to the point of causing fatal harm over the past decade, even when they were in battle, Tobirama had supposed it couldn’t do too much damage.

It was best to prioritise and choose his struggles with his brother, and he had _definitely_ needed to read over Hashirama’s letters to the two other clans they were currently in tentative discussions with.

Madara reached for it, and Tobirama extended both hands and passed it over with a little bow. Madara’s ungloved hands were pale and broad, with more slender fingers, and in the brief glimpse Tobirama had, seemed remarkably unmarred by scars, be they nicks from a blade or burns from katon jutsu.

Tobirama stood politely still and silent as Madara broke the seal and read, his eyes straying back to the crowded shelves around him - the rich smells of paper and ink and old books were all around him, soothing and familiar, though mixed with the faint smoke-and-spice scent that he had noticed pervaded the entire Uchiha compound.

The books were _calling_ to him, but Tobirama’s gaze kept returning to Madara as well, and not solely because it was where his attention _should_ , for the sake of proper conduct, be remaining. Madara sat with his head slightly bowed, the longest lock of his fringe falling forwards almost to brush Hashirama’s letter on the right side of his face, which was cast in an expression of fixed focus as he read.

Madara hummed, frowning slightly, but seemed more thoughtful than angry. Tobirama watched him for a moment, then glanced down curiously at the book open before him, in which he had been so engrossed before Tobirama’s interruption.

He tilted his head slightly, focusing to make sense of the inverted characters, and-

Tobirama stiffened slightly. “Ooh. . .” he breathed, tilting his head a bit further as he read, frowning when he reached the bottom of the page, cutting off an interesting supposition on the similarities that made using the same type of moulding between different types of elemental chakra possible.

“But part of the challenge of using elemental jutsu beyond your own affinity is the _differences_ , that the chakra cannot be moulded in the same fashion. . .”

“And yet the chakra itself is the same,” Madara said, and Tobirama stiffened, head jerking up and eyes meeting Madara’s; there was a faint curve to his lips and his eyes sparked with interest, “even those of us with a strong elemental affinity, so strong it . . . flavours our personal signatures,” he smirked for a moment, eyes flicking down Tobirama’s body and back up to his face, “the chakra gathers and flows within us in the same ways.”

“Yet when we _use_ it,” Tobirama countered, leaning forwards and bracing his hands on the table, “that is when those differences truly come into play - even when not using an elemental jutsu, the chakra is,” he paused, arching an eyebrow, “ _flavoured_ with our affinity.”

“That may be so, but until moulded _into_ an elemental jutsu,” Madara said, slight smile widening, “does it, in fact, fight so _wilfully_ against such simple pressures?”

“Yet, can you argue that it responds in precisely the same ways, one to another?” Tobirama asked, unable to keep himself from smiling, intrigued.

Madara beckoned, sliding a different book across the table to a clear space nearer him, and Tobirama moved around it to cock his head and look. “Sit, Tobirama-san.” Madara invited, and Tobirama ducked his head in a half absent bow and did so, skimming over the offered pages quickly, already forming his next point in his mind.

When he voiced it Madara was ready, with a little smirk as he gave a counter. Tobirama’s eyes narrowed as he reached for a loose piece of paper, then paused. Madara raised an eyebrow, passing him a brush and preparing the ink for him with a graceful swirling motion, one hand supporting the other wrist.

Tobirama laid out the comparison paths in smooth brushstrokes as he spoke, and Madara leaned closer, his hair in its tail beginning to spill over his shoulder as he cocked his head. He reached for the brush and Tobirama relinquished it easily with a light brush of their fingers, watching Madara make several changes to his diagram, arguing out each point. They worked back and forth, and eventually Madara had to redraw the diagram - somewhat altered - on a new sheet, after all of their changes and the indications surrounding the first one.

Tobirama startled, frowning, when Madara pushed away from the table, but he only offered a smile and crooked his fingers. “Have tea with me?” he asked, gesturing to a smaller table almost hidden away in a nook of the library.

Tobirama assented easily and they moved to the little tea corner, continuing their discussion.

After, they moved to a larger table and Madara laid out a highly detailed diagram of the human chakra pathways, each arguing over the patterns shown and illustrating their points with weighted coils of chain washed in various colours. They were still there, spiritedly building off of each other as they chased after a point raised in one of Madara’s books, when they were unexpectedly interrupted.

Tobirama twitched as the voice broke into a brief pause in their discussion; he’d been mostly tuning out the background chakra signatures here, knowing he was in an unfamiliar place . . . and absorbed in his discussion.

“Madara-sama,” Hikaku said, eyes flicking between them, “it is dinnertime. In fact you are a bit late.” he added pointedly.

Tobirama stiffened, eyes widening. “Oh!”

“. . . _oh_.” Madara said, glancing at Tobirama. He smiled, slightly rueful. “Would you please stay for dinner with us, Tobirama-san? It appears I have rather delayed your departure, and I couldn’t send you off without when it was my doing entirely that kept you from leaving in a reasonable time.”

“Oh, I-” Tobirama paused, and Madara’s smile spread the tiniest bit, his eyes warm behind his glasses. “Thank you, Madara-sama.”

“Truly, I could do nothing else.” Madara said politely, sliding his glasses off and rubbing his temple before folding them. “Thank you, Hikaku.”

Hikaku bowed shallowly, shooting Madara a pointed look. “Now, Madara-sama.”

“Yes, yes.” Madara said dryly. “If you would take Tobirama-san somewhere to allow him to freshen up before dinner?”

“Of course.” Hikaku bowed. “Senju-sama, would you follow me?”

Tobirama followed them both to the doors, then turned, feeling . . . odd to be walking away from Madara, but obediently allowing himself to be guided to what looked like a guest room. Hikaku offered to bring him anything he might need, then promised to return for him shortly, and left him alone.

Tobirama had been surprised to be left entirely unsupervised, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been.

. . .if nothing else, Madara himself was a sensor whose skill was formidable, Tobirama knew - if not quite approaching Tobirama’s own. He could keep track of Tobirama without anyone needing to be physically _with_ him. But . . . he suspected Madara had not.

Hikaku returned promptly as promised and guided him to a hall with a handful of other Uchiha in addition to Madara himself settling down at a long table.

Tobirama smiled and bowed his head in acquiescence as Madara held up a piece of grilled fish, and he put it on Tobirama’s plate. He . . . wanted to ask where Izuna was, though a quick flare of his senses had assured him that Izuna, who had been absent when Tobirama arrived at the Uchiha compound, had returned sometime since . . . but he wasn’t sure the question would be welcome. Not from him, after the way he and Izuna had faced one another time after time for years.

The table was oddly silent for a time, and Tobirama suspected his own presence was to blame, hardly needed the glances the few others at the table threw his way to guess. It was something of a relief when Madara spoke, voice confident and easy, and _more_ of one when he addressed Tobirama with a question he could answer.

The final point they had been discussing when Hikaku interrupted them still weighing on him, Tobirama leaned forwards a little. “Madara-sama, the diagrams in your library. . .”

“Please, you needn’t call me so formally.” Madara said, refilling Tobirama’s cup.

Tobirama startled, then smiled, relaxing a little and tapping the tips of his chopsticks against his plate before taking another bite. “Madara-san,” he began again when he had swallowed, and Madara smiled in response, “I have a question about those chakra pathway diagrams.”

“Do you?” Madara asked lightly, almost teasing.

Tobirama narrowed his eyes, smiling a bit in response. Distracted once more by the easy conversation with Madara, Tobirama barely noticed when the others at the table left until Hikaku excused himself only after a brief conversation with Madara, mostly about Izuna, who had evidently taken dinner in his room upon returning from his mission, so as to rest sooner. Hikaku asked if there was anything else needed and Madara dismissed him.

Madara turned back to Tobirama with a smile and they resumed their discussion, both of their plates still half full, both having been absorbed in talking as they ate, possibly more than the meal itself. After they both finished, they still lingered over the empty dishes for some short time.

“I am afraid I have kept you very late.” Madara said as they finally rose.

Tobirama rolled one shoulder. “I appear to have lost track of time, you can hardly be held responsible for that.” he said gently, shaking his head. “I will make fine time in the dark, it isn’t such a difficulty . . . not with your patrols not out for my head, in any case.” He arched an eyebrow.

Madara laughed wryly. “Perhaps. Still, you came to me directly from your travels, and have taken no rest despite the length of the day. . .” He paused. “It is late; will you not stay and rest here, and depart tomorrow?”

Tobirama frowned slightly. “I couldn’t ask for such a concession,” he said, thinking of the diplomatic nightmare of trusting hospitality so _much_ , and so soon, “you know I will be fine, there’s no need for you to put yourself out, Madara-san.”

“Please.” Madara said, his hand coming up to rest warm and gentle on Tobirama’s arm, and Tobirama hesitated. “Perhaps you will even indulge me,” he said softly, hesitant, “and we can finish our discussion in the morning, before you must go?”

The thought sparked delight, and Tobirama was immediately swayed. “Of course! I- I would like that very much, thank you . . . Madara-san.”

Madara smiled, broad and slightly soft. “So would I. Thank you.” He tilted his head to one side. “Allow me to escort you to a room for your use.”

* * *

“In here, talk to Aniki,” Izuna said, opening a pair of double doors, “oh kami, I can’t look. Tobirama showed up and got to talking with Aniki in our library and now it’s been _taken over_ and I can’t go into it any more for fear of my _poor delicate eyes_! You go first.”

Hashirama opened his mouth, then closed it, hurrying past Izuna, worry warring with confusion. “Madara! How could you _kidnap_ my bro-” he broke off with a sharp squeaking noise, eyes widening painfully.

Tobirama was leaning backwards against a broad, solid table, Madara pinning him there with one hand stretched out past him and braced on its surface, and they were _kissing_.

Very involved kissing.

Tobirama’s hands were raised, one twined into Madara’s hair, which was tied into a high tail, the other cupped around Madara’s shoulder. He was very clearly unbound and . . . and unhurt . . . and-

“I thought you’d been _kidnapped_! Captured! Hurt!” Hashirama sobbed, his heart aching and floatily light with relief.

Tobirama and Madara snapped apart with a startle, both breathing a little hard, and Hashirama keened. “ _Tobi!_ ”

“Anija!” Tobirama said, sounding shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“You were supposed to be home two weeks ago!” Hashirama cried, almost stumbling towards his brother.

“I sent a letter!” Tobirama said, frowning. “I told you I was staying and that I was fine and that I would return before you need me for the negotiations next month. If you needed me back sooner you could have sent a messenger.”

“I thought you were forced to write it!” Hashirama yelled, then glanced at Madara. “You- You’d been kidnapped and locked up and they forced you to- to try and keep me from coming for you! Like when Touka was trapped by the Hagoromo!”

“Anija, you really-” __  
  
“I haven’t _kidnapped_ your brother!” Madara snapped, scowling. “He isn’t restrained or bound, he is free to leave at any time!”

“Then why-” Hashirama began hotly.

“Oh. . . Yes, of course. . .” Tobirama said, and Hashirama stopped, staring a little at his baby brother, the faintly confused exasperation on his face now replaced by a downcast look. Remembering how the two of them had been entwined when he walked in, which had not quite . . . sunk in.

“Except. . .” Madara said hesitantly.

“Yes?” Tobirama asked softly, tilting his head a little, as Hashirama realised that his _oldest friend_ had been _kissing_ his baby brother, the pair of them all tangled up in each other, and _his baby brother had stayed here_ even when back at home there were negotiations to prepare for and all kinds of work that he would normally insist on trying to take away from Hashirama or at least supervise and-

“I- I was. . .” Madara raised a hand, brushing his fingers over Tobirama’s cheek as Hashirama sank absently to the floor, staring. “I was hoping you might . . . stay. _Truly_ stay, I mean.”

Tobirama straightened a little more, head coming up. “Yes?”

“Forever.” Madara said, and Tobirama made a soft sound, eyes wide and bright. “I . . . was hoping you might . . . marry me.”

Hashirama _wailed_ , drowning out the sound of whatever Izuna was half shouting nearby.

He still couldn’t miss-

Tobirama had made another startled sound, but the shock cleared from his face almost instantly as it suffused with pink - Hashirama hadn’t seen him blush in _years_ \- and then he lunged, nearly tumbling Madara to the floor even as they kissed again, Madara’s arms coming up around Tobirama in a tight embrace.

“I am _going back to my room_!” Izuna shouted, and Hashirama tore his eyes away from Madara thoroughly kissing his brother, one hand buried in his hair, the other arm wound tight around his waist, to look up at Izuna. He had one hand over his eyes and the other outstretched as he turned away. “If you fuck in the library again, would you _please_ lock the _fucking doors_ first this time?”

Hashirama yelped, eyes wide as he turned back to Tobirama and Madara, whose lips were just parting, the pair of them breathless and still clinging to one another. Madara stole little kisses, beaming all the time, and Tobirama was still blushing, stroking Madara’s face and rubbing their noses together. It was all ridiculously cute and Hashirama sobbed, rubbing his eyes.

“I do love you so.” Madara said softly, barely loud enough for Hashirama to hear, and he sobbed harder.

“Oh- Oh, _Madara_.” Tobirama’s voice was tight and wobbly, and he pulled Madara into another long kiss.

**Omake:**  
(missing scene)

Chirou shook his head, opening one of the library doors and moving directly inside, walking stick held more than used for support. Most of the clan might be addressing their concerns to Izuna, and he might very well be Madara’s heir, but he wasn’t Clan Head, might never be, and Chirou would speak to Madara himself - busy with a ‘private project’ or not.

“Madara- _sama_!” Chirou snapped smartly, striding deeper into the library. “I would speak with you!”

He paused, hearing Madara’s voice, and huffed, but moved towards it. He rounded a corner and froze, his walking stick clattering from his hand to the floor. He had indeed found Madara . . . and whatever he was _busy_ with-

Madara was stretched out in a heap of cushions, _naked_ and faintly flushed, his hair wild around his shoulders, skin peppered with pink marks from hands or- Lying against him, eyes closed and tousled white hair ruffled against his shoulder, in similar state, was the Senju messenger that Chirou had been vaguely aware had come and not yet left.

It was not just _a Senju messenger_ , that was _Senju Tobirama_ , heir to the Senju Clan Head and one of the most dangerous shinobi in the world. Match, perhaps, to their Madara.

And now he lay quiescent against Madara, both of them very obviously messy with the aftermath of sex. He trailed his fingers in an absent caress over Madara’s stomach, smearing the mess already there. Chirou swallowed, cringing.

Madara was wearing his glasses and holding up an open book in one hand. Akio’s personal design was embossed into the uchiwa on the back cover, one of his journals from his ridiculous travels, perhaps even the trip he had taken far across the sea, and Madara was reading something from it about foreign jutsu.

Senju Tobirama snuggled against him, listening, with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/Kalira) or [Dreamwidth](https://kalira.dreamwidth.org)!


End file.
